


An Endless Fog

by drunkdragon



Category: RWBY, Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:13:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkdragon/pseuds/drunkdragon
Summary: Blake did something. I don't know what she did, but I'm still here, and I need to find out. She says she's there, waiting. For what I don't know, but I'm going.
I'm going to Silent Hill.





	1. Yesterday's Letter

_Silent Hill. It’s all that fills my mind now, Yang. You and Silent Hill.  
_

_The two go hand in hand. You were the one that picked out that place, after all. My memories of it are warm, but I’m not here to reminisce._

_I’m so ashamed of myself. All I can think of is me. Even now, this letter I’m writing to you is for me._

_I loved you, Yang. You were my goddess. When we first became partners, I hesitantly let you into my life. And when I grew bolder, when I finally said yes, I let you wreck me and put me back together._

_I held onto you like there was nothing else left, like there was nothing else in the world that could get between us._

_I wanted it to last forever, but I guess I was foolish._

_The doctors said you weren’t getting better. I watched as you wasted away in that bed. I couldn’t take it. You, my bright sun, my shimmering moon, reduced to nothing._

_And then we did it. I don’t even know who said it first, but in my mind it’s me. It’s always me._

_I blamed your sickness, and then everything tumbled out. We said terrible things, and I ceased worshipping you._

_We were just so angry with each other. Angry and hurt. After a while I stopped coming to see you. I was free. I worshipped others, and I drank deep._

_But it wasn’t the same. There was no joy. Just the remorse in my heart when I peeled myself away from each and every sticky body._

_I left you in that hospital bed. After what I had done, I didn’t feel worthy of you anymore._

_And then after so long of not visiting you, I finally came by again. And in my weakness I did a terrible, terrible thing._

_I just want to say that I’m sorry, Yang. I don’t know how else I can put it. I regret what I did so much. Words I can take back. And some actions I can beg for forgiveness._

_But not this. This action I can’t. Moving the stars would be easier. Moving the stars would have been preferable._

_It’s just me, now. No you, no us, no we._

_It’s just me and Silent Hill, in our special place, waiting._

* * *

I read the letter again. It’s in Blake’s handwriting. I’d recognize it anywhere. The paper crinkles in my grasp with its uneven surface, warped from splotches of water. Tears most likely.

Blake is hurting. That’s all I know. From what I’m not sure. But for the life of me, all I can do is shake in rage.

**_How could she do this to me?_ **

She left me behind on that hospital room. She never visited again. We had that fight, she came by one more time, and it was over. And now, after two years, a letter is all she sends me?

It’s not even for me, she said. She’s doing it for herself.

My hand blazes a trail through my blonde locks. I tell myself to breathe, to slow down. To think for once in my damn life. But thinking hurts. I see only Blake again and again. I see us staring at each other during the last visit.

I don’t even know what I’ll do when I find her. Maybe we’ll talk. Maybe we’ll fuck.

Maybe I’ll fucking choke her.

…

A coughing fit hits me. It’s not what I had before. Whatever sickness it was is done and gone now, but I still find myself gasping and wheezing for breath. I move my hands away from my neck, rubbing the sore area around its base. It still feels tender, and I hiss when I touch it. But it should fix itself eventually.

Blake did something. I don’t know what she did, but I’m still here, and I need to find out. She says she’s there, waiting. For what I don’t know, but I’m going.

I’m going to Silent Hill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Silent Hill or RWBY. I think that goes without saying. Also, assuming that I am able to somehow get this going and am writing more chapters, I will most likely refrain from listing much author notes until the end. I don't expect this to be too long, but hopefully it will be an enjoyable read.
> 
> Also, while I didn't create the pieces of art used, I did do the photoshop edit to put them all together. You can see it on my tumblr post here:  
> http://drunkdragondoes.tumblr.com/post/154196094866/silent-hill-its-all-that-fills-my-mind-now


	2. Old Memories

It’s this cheap motel again. The faded wallpaper, the thin carpet, the hard mattress, it’s all the things I remember when Blake and I first came to this town. We weren’t exactly stinking rich. Being a huntress paid well, but it was commissions-based. We didn’t get any money until we did a job, and we haven’t had as many under our belt yet.

It’s a nice place. It holds some fun memories of when we were carefree and simply roaming around Vale and picking up work where work was. Aside from a few things, we didn’t have too many responsibilities to worry about. And for the times we came back to visit, it was affordable.

But it’s not our special place though. After we built up enough funds to feel comfortable, we started staying at one of the better hotels. It had a gorgeous view from the balcony, overlooking the nearby valley. It was the best at night though. Silent Hill is a smaller town, so there are fewer city lights and you can see the clear stars in the dark sky. And sometimes, in the early morning, we’d just watch the fog roll in.

That’s where Blake is now. If she’s still at our special place, that would be it.

Rising from the bed, I make my way to the bathroom. But as I open the door, I see shards of glass all over the tile. It’s actually the bathroom mirror that lays shattered across the ground. Not even a single piece of it is on the wall, where it used to be.

I roll my head back and sigh. It was an accident, I tell myself. Anyone who knows me understands that I’m a little prone to anger, but only in certain cases. And even then, I try to keep it to myself until I’m in front of the punching bag. Blake was always good at talking me through it, though.

But now she’s the source of my anger. I don’t even think talking to her will help me. Two years. Two whole fucking years and all I have is the letter on the nightstand. It’s unfair. I was the one in the hospital bed, I was the one suffering, and then she just... leaves me.

What happened to true love, Blake? The things we said, the things we did… did they just become so repulsive to you after I got sick? Was it me? I didn’t do anything wrong. There was friction, yes, but anyone would have felt that in this situation.

So why did you lash out at me?

There’s no broom to gather the broken mirror into. I try to use my prosthetic hand to safely pick up the pieces, but there are so many. And as I look at them more and more, I just feel that same melancholy from earlier boiling inside me. I give up in the end and decide to just dump what I have into the small trash bin. But when I open the top up, I see bloodied tissues.

If I wasn’t done with the cleaning earlier, I am now. I throw the shards in with a huff and shut the top. I’ll just have to wear boots and make do.

As I rise, though, some of the hair from my side escapes into my vision. Fingering it and pulling it in front of me, I scowl. I must be getting old. My hair seems to be turning gray. Or is it…

No, that-

_No_. No.

I take a deep breath.

That’s gray. Definitely gray.

* * *

Blake’s letter. About a hundred lien. Blonde hair dye.

It’s time to get going. I’ve been in this motel for long enough. With one final breath I push the door open to the parking lot. There’s a light fog in the area, but it should be going away soon. A breeze goes through the area and I wrap the orange scarf around my neck a little tighter. It’s one of the things that never went away as I got older. I didn’t always wear it, but it stuck with me. I guess it’s just a piece that’s there to remind me of who I am.

I’m a bit on the edge of the town. The quickest way to get to that hotel by foot is through a small man-made forest path. Silent Hill is a bit of a resort location, so there are a lot of scenic walking routes around. Some of them are dirt, others are paved. But they’re all pretty. We’ve been through them countless times.

But as I descend into the forest, it only seems to get mistier. I can still see through some of it, but it’s getting noticeably thicker now. I feel my feet moving faster, trying to walk through the fog, but I don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere quicker than I was earlier. In fact, the path seems impossibly long. And it has been some time since I’ve walked this path. I don’t know if I’ve taken a wrong turn, or if I was on the wrong way to begin with.

I look at my scroll and see that it’s well past noon. The fog shouldn’t be getting thicker at this time of day. If anything, it should have died down by now. And it keeps getting harder and harder to see through it. Soon I don’t think I’ll be able to see more than a couple meters ahead of me. For a moment I think about returning to the motel. But I’ve been through so much fog and twisting paths that I doubt I’ll be able to find my way back. Besides, the only thing that’s waiting for me back there is a broken mirror.

What feels worse about this, though, is that I don’t hear anyone. In fact, I don’t hear anything. No birds, no other people on this path. No cars or other machines.

It’s just empty, a ringing silence in a town with no signs of life.

But… I don’t feel like I’m alone. Call it being cautious, but it’s like I’m being watched. By who or what I don’t know, but something has its eye on me. It’s like the town is observing my every move, judging me.

And this fog… it doesn’t seem right.

I just want to get out of this forest. So I do what’s natural. I do what’s instinctual.

I run.


	3. Unbidden Memories

It’s not long until I’m out of breath. I feel ashamed. I’m a huntress, and physical strength was what I was known for. But the sickness took everything out of me. Being bedridden meant that I couldn’t exercise, couldn’t fight. I could barely walk and my body tired easily. I was frail.

I’m glad I was eventually able to leave the hospital. Not a lot of pleasant memories there, after all. I would like to have my body back, but I’m not about to wish for the impossible. The only real thing I can do is to try and build it back up, to get to where I was again.

Still, willpower can only get me so far. By now I’m heaving and sweating. My legs and calves burn. The forest wasn’t a flat plane and I nearly fell over a few times. But right when I’m about to stop, right when I don’t think I can go any further, there’s a break in the trees. I push on, and I see some stonework. Soon I put my hands in front, catching myself before I collapse all over the short stone fence. I take deep breaths and I almost retch, but I keep it in.

When my heartbeat slows and I can no longer feel it pounding in my ears, I look back and see that the forest that I came out of is no longer visible. The fog is now impenetrable. I can see maybe ten, fifteen feet ahead, but that’s it. Looking up, I can tell that the sun is still out there, but it’s starting to get low. When I look at my feet, my own shadow is barely visible.

I take out my scroll, putting in my password and immediately regretting it.

My background is a picture of the two of us, Blake and me. It’s a selfie, by her for a surprise. I can’t exactly recall where it was taken at, but I can see that this was before everything clearly went wrong. A lump rises in my throat, and my finger brushes against the screen, against her cheek. My lip trembles, yet my hand shakes in anger.

My father told me life would be unfair. Things will always happen and events will occur, whether they are affecting good people or bad. People die in accidents. Grimm will keep killing. And I was born into-

My eyes close. I sniffle and let out an anguished huff.

I’m right that it hurts. But that’s not what I opened up my scroll for. Taking another calming breath, I open my eyes again and look at the screen, trying to navigate around and see if there’s anything alive in this town.

But it’s all dead. I get a very unreliable signal, like I’m getting blocked, and I can’t establish a connection to any local hunters in the area. Hell, I don’t even know if there are any hunters here at this time. The only thing that my scroll can tell me is that it’s almost four in the afternoon. I’ve only been out for about an hour, but I’m already feeling tired and unsettled.

I don’t think I want to be outside when it gets late. Not with this fog, and not when there’s no one else around. With one final breath, I push off of the masonry and move down the grass path outlined by the stone fence. My legs are burning, but that will go away in time.

I still can’t quite see through this fog. But I can see enough. The grass seems well-tended, but the masonry makes me think that this area is old. The stones aren’t so cleanly cut, like it’s from an age before we had more precise tools. It gives it an aged look, like it’s been around for longer than I have, and will still be once I’ve passed away.

As I keep walking, the fog seems to lift a little. That, or I’m tricking myself. But I begin to wish that it stayed in place. In front of me, as my pace slows and eventually stops, I see rows and rows of stones. Rectangular, crosses, other shapes, flat stones, all distanced from each other.

It’s a cemetery. Some of the tombstones are newer than others, but they’re all aged and weathered in some way. This was not the path I expected myself to be on. I thought I would end up at the hotel, but I suppose that this is what I get for not knowing the route.

I sigh.

Come on, Yang. You’ve fought bigger things than this before. Bigger, scarier things. Dead people stay dead. There are worse things out there than zombies.

With another breath, I move on through the cemetery. Blake and I passed by it pretty often, so I know that there’s a main road at one of these corners. It actually has a nice view of the valley as well, just from a different angle than the hotel. For those that are staying here, it’s not a bad spot.

As I keep walking, my head turns towards the side and I see a gravemarker that’s a little different than the others. It has a big angel sitting on top of it, looking down at the grass below it. It feels unusual to look at. It doesn't calm me, but it's like if I go by it would somehow soothe my mind.

I stray a little close to it, but ultimately I keep my distance. I don't have the time to spare. With one final glance at the angel I keep moving. 

To think - I would have been buried here if I didn’t get better.

Eventually I come to a hill that leads to the main road. Stopping at the curb, I instinctively look left and right, trying to see if there are any moving cars to watch out for in the fog, but I know it’s useless. I hear nothing. Crossing over, I begin to approach the more suburb part of Silent Hill. 

It’s a trip down memory lane that I don’t like. Blake and I went to a lot of shops in the area during our visits. Gift stores, restaurants, other things. I wouldn’t say we explored everything, but we knew a lot of the little secrets of this town. Especially the fish. Blake loved it, so if there was one thing we took extra precaution to know, it was that.

I pass by an old sandwich shop. We had a tendency to come by here for lunch when we were a little younger in our hunter days, and we still did every now and then afterward. I find myself staring through the glass, trying to imagine all the seats we sat at, and I take a deep breath.

“Let’s grab a bite here, Yang.”

My hand reaches for the door handle. Before I know it, I’m looking to the side and smiling, as if expecting-

The door rattles and my thoughts are jarred back to where I am. Locked. My eyes fall to the ground, a clear sense of longing and dismay in my chest.

Of course it would be locked. How could you have expect otherwise?

Fucking idiot.

My arm retracts to my side, and I stare at the glass. The chairs are still on top of the tables. The owners never even opened shop today. I should have noticed that first, but my memories, they… they just won’t leave me.

I blink and when my eyes focus, it’s on the reflective glass. I feel my lips turn, trembling, yet threatening to split into a snarl. My fists clench and I know that I need to move away from it. Now. I turn so fast that my hair whips around me before settling at my back.

I take out my scroll again. Still no signal. Looking back at the clock, I see that it’s 4:30PM. Time seems to slip by me quickly, but I shake the thought away. Turning my gaze back up to the street, I see that there are all these other stores nearby that are just like this one. I just need to find a place where I can be inside once darkness hits. Everyone’s gone, but I have to find somewhere to stay.

I  **_don’t_ ** want to be out here when the sun sets.


	4. A Sensual Aroma

I must have been around the whole southwest end of this town, but I haven’t seen anyone. I haven’t heard anything. Just emptiness and this damn fog. And every door? Locked.

Locked, locked, locked.

A whole town doesn’t just disappear. Hell, everything was perfectly fine last night.

Last night…

My hand goes up to my face, brushing my blonde locks back as I bite my lip. I can’t remember anything from last night. I just know that I smashed the mirror. Or I think I did. I had to have. But try as I might to recall what happened, I can only draw a blank. All I remember is the hospital bed, and then… here. Silent Hill.

I had to have gotten better. I had to have recovered. I know I did.

It’s this damn town. It’s playing tricks on me.

I take out my scroll again to check the time. 5:45PM. I let my head hang back. The sun is getting dangerously low. Orange lights are beginning to pierce through the fog, lengthening what there is of my shadows. I see streetlights lining the pavement, and they should be on at this low light. But they’re not, and everything is just slowly getting darker.

There’s only one building left on this block, and I need to get into it. Locked or not, I will get in. Quickening my pace, I feel myself wanting to run again. I just want off these streets. I’ve been pounding the pavement, my legs are tired, I’m hungry…

And if I wasn’t worried when I was in the forest, I am now.

Finally I reach my destination. It’s the end of the corner, where there is a wall built into the bottom of a hill. On its side runs a small alley, big enough for maybe two people. The front door is red, but the paint’s faded. I don’t even need to see the flyers on the sides to know that this is a seedy place.

There’s a resounding zap and I flinch, heart pounding. I backpedal and nearly trip backwards, but I catch myself before I do anything stupid. Looking up, I see neon lights glowing in that pink color that parents tell their children to stay away from

The Last Dance.

Despite the lights being on, something tells me that the front door won’t open. But my hand still  reaches for the doorknob, only to twist in vain.

I need to get in. Panic begins to run its course, and I start to knock, banging harder before shooting another look at the setting sun. But I stop. A thought runs into my head, and I turn to the side, towards the alleyway.

There’s a side entrance in that alleyway. It doesn’t make any sense that I know this fact. But it’s there. I know it. Quickly I feel myself moving towards the opening. But as I approach the wall, where my shadow is falling against, I stop.

There are two little black triangles. They’re not really triangles, but they look like them. And if I move myself just a little bit... 

The head of my shadow rests just below them, and it looks like I have cat ears.

_ Blake. _

I move closer. The ears no longer meet my head properly, but that doesn’t stop me. My arms shake. I know it’s not her. There’s no way it’s her. But my hands rise and they go for her neck, or where they would be.

…

I’m coughing again. This time it seems worse than before. My vision is black around the edges, and everything around my neck hurts. I attempt to breathe deep and slow. My hands are trying to soothe my neck, one palm placed on top of the other’s back, rubbing away at the pain. But I feel tired, and they fall to the pavement below me. I can barely support myself, and my entire body burns.

This shit should be done with. I finished the meds, I’m out of the hospital, and I’m here to find Blake. I won’t let something I’ve already overcome stop me. With another scratchy breath, I rise up from the ground and turn towards the alleyway.

And just as I recall, there’s that side door. I move over, doing my best to ignore the pain. I don’t want to look at my scroll to know the time. I don’t want to stay out here any longer. In desperation I quickly grab the handle and try to turn, but it’s still locked. I let out a frustrated growl. My hand tries to jostle the knob, hoping for it to give somehow, but it changes nothing.

But I know the code. Hesitantly, slowly, and hoping that it hasn’t changed, I knock.

Two taps.

A pause.

Three more.

There’s a click, and the door unlocks. I shove it open, move in, and close the door.

A strong smell hits me. It’s not death. I’ve lived through enough Grimm attacks to know that scent. It’s something else. And when I realize what it is, it’s something worse than death.

There are more pink neon lights inside the room, especially lighting up the bar area. There are some circular raised platforms with a long pole rising from the center. Surrounding the stages are a couple of couches, long, red, and with a few stains. I knew this place was seedy, but this…

This is a strip club. More specifically, though, is the smell of sweat and sex. I’m at a brothel.

… Why the hell would I know the secret to getting into a brothel? I don’t. My mind reminds myself that I don’t, but my heart pounds, unwilling to accept what is going through my head. I don’t know why I know how to get in here. I don’t even remember this place. I’ve never stepped foot into here.

But Blake did. I just know. I watch as her hands knock on the door and it opens again and again. I… she said she didn’t care who it was. Man or woman on the showfloor, anyone that caught her fancy was hers for the night. I know this because…

I feel my lip tremble and I sniff. No. I’m not going to cry. I didn’t do anything wrong, it’s all  _ her _ fault. Whatever she’s going through right now, she deserves every bit of it. 

And I’m here to personally give her a piece of my mind.

Another steadying breath, and my eyes close and open again. Scanning the area, I see something I didn’t realize before.

There’s a flight of stairs going up. I know where it leads, and I don’t like it. It’s dark and it looks longer than it should actually be. But in my mind, I know that Blake has been up there before. I don’t want to go where she’s cheated on me.

But I could get lucky. There might be something for me up there.

With a hesitating step, I push the thought back and make my way up the stairs. The carpet is a smooth purple, given an exotic glare from the low red lights. When I get to the top, it leads to a hallway with rooms branching off to the side. At the end of the hall, though, there’s a room that I just know I don’t want to get near. I take a shot at all of the other doors, trying to open them up in hopes of something, but they’re all locked.

_ Thump _

My head whips towards that room. The one at the end of the hall. The one that I do not want to open.

_ Thump _

It’s just some noise. But considering that I had not heard anything else prior to this, it makes me jump. My heart is beginning to race again, and yet I have to know what’s behind that door now.

_ Thump _

Slowly, cautiously, I put one foot in front of the other until my hand rests on the wooden frame. The noise continues, a steady, bed-shaking, pounding rhythm. With some final breaths, I grasp the knob and turn. I push the door open with all my might while moving backwards at the same time, trying to put distance between me and whatever else there might be.

… Nothing.

Nothing but the scent of sex. I cautiously peer into the room. It’s dimly lit, mute orange lights coming from light fixtures on the wall and ceiling. There’s a walk-in closet off to the side, but the real attraction is the bed, long, wide, and luxurious, with numerous postcards on it.

There’s an anger swelling within me. I know what happened here. I know but I don’t want to believe it. But it did.

In a vain last hope, my mind goes to the cards on the bed and I read them. 

_ “Kitty loves a pounding. I think I have a friend you might also like.” _

_ “Maddie and I always appreciate another pussy to toy with between us girls. Cum back anytime.” _

I think that on any other day, I would appreciate the innuendoes. But not here. Not now. I don’t even read the others. I just look at the names signed on the bottom. It’s not the real names, obviously. They are stage names, personas. But it’s clear that Blake didn’t care who she slept with. Man or woman mattered not.

I lose it. I tear the postcards up. I throw the bedding around. I rip the pillow apart.

And I yell. I yell with each strain of my muscles, and soon my voice is hoarse. I don’t know how long I tear away at the room. But when my anger leaves me, all I have left is the emptiness in the wake of my destruction.

The closet door’s been trashed. The mattress was thrown against the wall. The only proof of that a pillow was in this room are the feathers. There’s nothing left for me to destroy, and I find myself crumpling down against the wall, my legs giving out from beneath me.

The words struggle to form in my mouth. “Why? Why did you do this, Blake?”

I hate it here. All I can smell is the stench of sex and the perfume that tries to cover it. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was stuck. I wanted to move, to comfort her, and yet I could do nothing. How could she do this to me?

In my head, I imagine what happened in this room. Naked bodies, growls, heavy breaths. I know I shouldn’t think about it, but the thoughts bring me back to when Blake and I first fucked. I remember tangled limbs, pain, and tears. Golden locks weighing upon black ones. Scared and weeping amber under intense lilac. But she kept going, kept pushing on through it all.

It could have gone either way. It could have been beautiful, or it could have been a mess. There was a heavy fear in the air as we continued, each with our own concerns. But it was a passing moment, and in the end we clung tightly to each other.

My hands rise to my eyes. No, no more. Stop. But my commands are in vain. I remember the other times with Blake, both intense and soft. I remembers the words we said to each other, both in the moment and from the before and after. It’s eating away at me from the inside out.

And the worst part is that I’m feeling equally desperate. I’m in a god damn whorehouse, and all I can think about is the heat that’s coursing through my body.

I can’t remember when was the last time I had sex. I was sick during my time in the hospital, and it could have been contagious. I didn’t want Blake to catch it, but not even being able to kiss each other in any way hurt more than the sickness itself. I ached for her touch.

I’m so hot and bothered right now that it hurts.

I’m pathetic. Blake should just be another pussy by now. I told myself this earlier and I’m trying to convince myself of it again, to convince myself that it’s true. But here I am, just a fucking cuck. I want to get off so bad, but I know it’s just going to leave this empty, disgusting feeling in me.

But all I can think of are her guided hands upon my shoulders, upon my chest and down my navel. Another surge of heat roars down my front and it makes me tremble. I bite my lip, trying to convince myself not to, but my hand is already snaking away down my front.

I imagine it’s her. I see her intense gaze staring down into me and I break.

“Cheater,” I croak out. “You’re just a cheater, Blake.”

My fingers push in and I start to cry.


	5. Rumination

It was a painful release. Physically I felt good. Emotionally, though, I was drained. When the moment came and went, I was just a broken, sobbing mess. I hate how I wanted it so bad. I hated how I screamed her name again and again like it was the only thing that mattered. But I just couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe all of this is just some way of coping for these two years of silence between the two of us.

It’s over now though. The tears have long dried. But I don’t know how long I laid there on my side, half-naked and in the recesses of my mind. I was right in that it would only leave an empty feeling within me. I feel worthless, falling for a woman that has torn my heart out but still getting off to what she did to me.

It’s the chill of the air that finally gets me to move. At least I had enough reasoning left in my mind to get my clothing out of the way. Less mess to deal with. But I’m just tired now. Wiping whatever I can away onto the floor, I put my clothes back in order, trying to make sure everything looks okay. I know that there’s no one here, but I can’t help but feel self-conscious.

Once everything is in order, I step back out into the hallway and close the door. I tiredly blink and shuffle down the hall. There should be a restroom somewhere and I can try to freshen up, but I can’t be bothered to do it. I’m hungry, but more importantly I’m tired. Grabbing a hold of the handrail, I slowly make my way back down to the neon-lit bar.

It’s still empty. I’m naturally worried, but I’m also a little relieved. I don’t want anyone to know what I just did upstairs. But if anyone ever came in, they would probably already know what this place holds anyway. Moving toward the center of the club, I scope out the cleanest couch I can find and curl up on it.

I don’t know if it’s a good idea. This town is empty, but that feeling of being watched still lingers in my mind. Someone could find me in here and…

Well, it’s a risk I have to take. There’s something wrong with this town. There’s fog everywhere, and things seem… unusual. But if Blake is here, I don’t think I really care. I just need answers. We can try to talk, try to figure out what the fuck went wrong between us and work it out.

Maybe… Maybe we can still be together after all this.

I know I was angry earlier, but after my fit and getting off, I just don’t have the energy for anything else right now. I fold my arms over each other, trying to keep as much warmth to myself as possible. My eyes close and sleep takes me.

The last thoughts through my head are of her warm hands wrapped around me. It’s like I’m basking in sunlight.

* * *

I don’t know what time it is when I wake up, nor how long I slept. I didn’t check my scroll previously, and when I look now I just have no signal. It could still be dark, or it might be early in the morning. There are no windows looking into a strip club, after all. Can’t let people get a free show.

I stretch my limbs, ignoring the ache in my back. The neon lights are still on, and it’s like nothing’s changed in the last hours or so that I’ve been here. I should get out of here. I don’t know if it’s still dark out there, but I don’t want to stay here any longer.

The first thing I do is head to the bathroom and freshen up. There’s no shower, obviously - it’s just a regular bar bathroom. There might be one upstairs, but I’m not going back up. Not a chance in hell. But when I exit the stall and look at the sink, I figure I can at least try to give myself a wipedown. Grabbing two hand towels from the bar, I return to the bathroom and do just that, using one to wipe and the other to dry. It’s not going to replace a warm shower, but it’s good enough. When I’m dressed and it’s all done, I look up at the mirror and I quickly reel back.

Blake is staring at me through the mirror. Her eyes are scrunched, ears flattened backwards against her head, a barely suppressed growl coming from her throat.

“How could you do that to her?” She yells to me, and it’s like I’m caught in headlights. “You loved her!”

I’m still in shock, but I know my mouth is moving. I’m just not able to make something coherent.

“She was the best goddamn thing that ever happened in your life, and you _ruined_ it!”

Her arms shoot out of the mirror and I scream as she grabs my neck. My own hands try to take a hold of her wrists, to try to stop her and push back. But I’m getting nowhere fast. I don’t feel strong enough to fight her off. My airway is clamped and my muscles are beginning to burn again. My vision starts to fade.

“Stop hiding from yourself. Stop denying it.”

I have to fight. I have to... keep... going.

“You should just die.”

But… maybe… maybe I should just let this happen.

… _No_.

There’s a shattering crack. My legs nearly give out beneath me as my left hand clutches the sink for support. I can breathe again and I take greedy gulps of air. It’s raspy, but I’m going to be okay. I’m going to live.

That wasn’t Blake. Blake isn’t some being in a mirror. Blake is a real person.

But what she said still sticks with me. She was blaming me for something. But for what? I did nothing wrong, and I still stand by it. It was her, she… she...

A rage courses through me, and the words tumble through my lips in a rough tone.

“Fuck you, Blake. You’re the worst.”

It felt good to say those words. It’s different than how I was maybe six or so hours ago, where I was calling out her name like my life depended on it. But now here I am, cursing her existence.

First I’m sad, then I’m mad beyond reason. What the hell is wrong with me?

Focus. You're a pillar. You're a goddess looking for retribution, on a path for revenge. And after all she's done, Blake Belladonna is just another pussy you’ve wrecked.

I ignore the pain in my right hand as I squeeze my fist tighter, pulling it back from where the mirror once stood. No shards of it remain, but I close my eyes as I stand to my full height. I remind myself that have **blonde** hair. I have **lilac** eyes. I have a **prosthetic** right arm. I am **Yang Xiao Long** , for fuck’s sake. I remind myself of these things. But… thinking to myself like this…

A low growl escapes my throat. It’s animalistic, unusual of me. I blink, trying to ignore the anger. I have no reason to be mad at myself. It should be directed at Blake. But… just...

I try to focus on my hair. My left hand combs through it, absorbing how it feels, the individual locks twining between my fingers. But as I pull my hand back to the front, I’m looking at the strands it carries.

I keep telling myself that my hair is graying. But with the low light, it makes me think it’s black.

I turn on the water and pull out my hair dye.


	6. Entering the darkness

My hair's still wet when I exit the bathroom, slamming the door as hard as I can. I’ve calmed down a lot, but I can tell that I’m still aggravated.But before I fall into my mind again, a growl rises from my stomach.

I can’t recall when I last ate, but I need something in me.

I hop over the bar counter and go into the kitchen to raid the fridge. I’m a little scared to go through what’s in there, but everything looks clean at least. I get some ingredients needed to make a simple sandwich, but as I use my right hand to close the door, a small stamp of blood is left behind.

I freeze, feeling my veins chill. My eyes trace their way down my arm in a slow gaze, looking at the prosthetic pieces. There’s blood on my knuckles, spilling their way onto my fingers.

This isn’t right. Metal and wires don’t bleed. The plating is fine, the shape is fine. Nothing seems wrong with it.

Even then, though, there’s nothing I can do. I don’t have my tools to look through it to try and figure out what’s wrong with it. And I highly doubt that it’s the actual problem. Setting the ingredients onto the sterile counter, I give the prosthetic a quick wipedown with another towel. It’s all I can do before I start eating.

I really need to get out of this building.

* * *

I found a flashlight. It casts a wide light, but it doesn’t seem very strong itself. But it’s better than nothing, and with how dark it might still be outside, I would rather be able to at least see something than nothing. I could use my scroll, but with no signal I don’t want to risk running out of batteries. I have my charger and I was able to get some juice going into it at the club, but with the rest of the town going dark, I want to take as few risks as possible.

With one last final breath, making sure that my scarf is in place around my neck, I slowly push the red door open. The first thing I register is that it’s pitch black. I don’t step out, and I keep my hand on the knob in case I need to shut it. I don’t hear anything, though, and with a quick shine of the flashlight I see that it’s just the wall out there. Pushing the door slowly and peering more and more, I finally step out into the darkness.

Nothing. But the amount of darkness is still unsettling. Not a lot of light spills outside of the cone in front of me, and without it I don’t think I can see anything. I still don’t hear anything, but with the lack of things to see I’m wondering if I’m going to start imagining things.

With one final look behind me, I step out into the darkness. Pointing the flashlight towards the side, I stick my hand out and I can barely see its shape. I’ll need to move carefully. Turning toward the alley exit, I make my way back towards the neon glow of the front and hope that my eyes will quickly adjust to the darkness.

As I exit the alleyway, and step into the pink light, I give the brothel one last look before turning away. A part of me wants to destroy this dump. But another side knows that I’ll come crawling back, like all the other times. Why? I don’t know. But such a thought both angers and saddens me. I haven’t paid a single dime into this place.

I shake my head and continue to walk, going back up the street and away from that corner. Turning my flashlight from side to side, the shops all look dark still. I can’t see too far inside and I still only hear my own two feet. But I just need to get to the hotel. Once I get there, then everything…

… Two of the roads are gone. It’s… It’s just a hole, and then nothing else from here on out. There’s no bottom to it, and my flashlight won’t reach the other side. There aren’t even any buildings, it’s just... 

Darkness.

I turn to the side and see that there is still a road going somewhere. There’s a shudder in my heart, though, but I push on and keep walking down the road.

But as I keep trying to pick the path that leads to the hotel, anywhere really, I continue to encounter the missing paths. And it’s like that part of Silent Hill never existed. There’s just nothing there. Just an impassable gap that I can’t cross. And I’m certainly not about to try without being able to see my destination.

That shuddering in my heart continues to grow, though. I’m looking at the streets the impasses are forcing me towards. I recognize them very well. I feel like I’ve walked these paths tons of times, and when I take one last left, a chill goes down my spine.

It’s the hospital. The place where I was at for too long. But why do I know the path so well? After a while I just never left it again, and I sure as hell never wanted to come back after I got better.

So why am I here now?

There are no running ambulances. From what I can see, everything seems in pristine order, but the lights are out. It’s a long way to the building, but there’s nowhere else to go. And I don’t want to turn back. There’s only the brothel that way.

Hell, the road might not even be there anymore for it.

Looking up at the hospital again, my flashlight just barely illuminates the side of it and my eyes trace to where my room was. No lights are on, but I remember hearing from Blake that it’s the third from the right on the fourth floor.

There’s no reason for me to go there, and there’s no reason for Blake to be there either. But my mind drifts back to the letter, where she describes our argument, and then something that she did. I remember the argument, but my memory is hazy on the other thing.

I feel my heart shake at the thought of it, but I need to know. It’s not long before I’m at the front door. My hand reaches for the cold, sterile metal, pulling it open and I step inside.

I walk over the mat, the door shuts behind me, and suddenly I can’t breathe again.


	7. Bad Memories

I must have blacked out. I’m slumped down on my side by the time my eyes open up again. But all I see is the spot of sun the flashlight is burning into my eyes. With an uneasy groan, I push myself up and look around me.

Nothing’s gotten in. And probably no one has gotten out. I don’t think I’d still be alive if something came by and found me.

Leaning forward, I grab the flashlight and push myself up. As I turn the cone around, my eyes fall upon the lobby I’m in. Except for me, it’s all pristine. There’s no blood, no rushing nurses, no crying patients, no ambulances. None of those familiar sounds are there.

After hearing that thumping noise back at the brothel, I’m not sure what is worse - the sound of something there, or the silence indicating that there isn’t. Both thoughts are equally chilling.

As the light brushes upon the front counter, I spot a folder. It’s the only thing that’s not in place - the only thing that stands out. Being me, I want to open it up and see what it’s about. But in me there is a sense of dread. I don’t know who it’s for. But I also don’t think I want to know what’s in it.

But like a moth drawn to a flame I go over. Soon my hand is brushing against the cover, and I freeze.

_ Primary Subscriber: Blake Belladonna-Xiao Long _

_ Patient: Yang Xiao Long _

It’s a thick file. I… I don’t want to see what’s inside. But I think I already know what’s in there. It’s records of my stay here in the hospital. It’s the amount of lien paid out for me.

I wasn’t stupid. My stay at the hospital wasn’t cheap. Insurance covered some things - medication, the overnight stays, the doctor visits. But the coverage didn’t last forever. And I know exactly when it ran out.

I know exactly when it ran out because it was the day we had our argument.

I open the folder, looking at the dates of the bills, and I come to the last one. August 14th, 2038.

A shaky breath courses through my body as I remember the words we exchanged.

_ “How much of our benefit is left?” _

It was said with such… discontent. It was dismissive, almost. It was a question that already had an answer - it just needed to be said. But there was no response.

_ “Blake.” _ It was a firmer tone this time.  _ “How much is left.” _

When the words finally came out, I felt defeated. It was as if the end had come.

_ “It ran out two months ago. After it was declared terminal, your life insurance paid out. We were given a hundred thousand lien, and... it's all gone now.” _

It was like watching a picture book of emotions. Outrage. Sadness.

But what hurt the most was look of betrayal.

_ “Yang, I… I’m-" _

_ “Why didn't you tell me?” _

It’s like a sack of bricks.

_ “I’m sorry, Yang, I-I… I couldn't. I just-” _

And then everything comes out, with anger rearing its head and standing tall.

_ “I mean, I'm costing us so much. We could have done something together with that. We could have spent a little more time together. Hell, you could have done something with it for yourself. And now look - we don't have that money and I'm still in this fucking bed!” _

_ “You mean I'm not allowed to care for the one I love?” _

It’s a short flash, but it’s there. It got a taste of freedom and now it’s here to claw its way out of our throats. We were trying to be nice, trying to be calm and patient with the other, like how love should be.

There’s a lull in our conversation. Neither side wants to say anything, like we both know what’s going to happen if anyone speaks.

But the coughing comes, the coughing that took so much away from me. It always comes. And I hate it.

_ “Why did you have to get sick?” _

_ “... What?” _

It wasn’t supposed to come out. But what happens afterwards is a one-sided screaming match. Everything bad and worse just comes my way. Everything about me shrinks away, wanting to just disappear, to be swallowed up by the earth.

But eventually it dies down again. Neither of us have the energy to continue the argument. We’re both just so broken by this sickness. So broken that we can’t even look at each other anymore.

There’s one final squeak of words. Its volume pales in comparison to the words said minutes ago.

_ “I can't bury you, Yang. I just can't.” _

_ “Well... maybe you should. I just want this to end.” _

It was like fine china being broken.

Eventually, Blake left. I didn't get to see her again until that last day. But she cried. Blake cried a lot. I cried too, but she cried more. Of all the things I have done, I have never regretted anything else more than what transpired in that room.

I hurt her. We hurt each other, really. But I hurt her first, and that is what set everything off for the next week.

I close the folder.

Seeing these numbers and figures here, it’s… a lot to think about. We could have done a lot with this money. We could have tried to go into the town again. I don’t think I could have gotten far, with that damn coughing and all, but we could have been together for a little longer.

As painful as it is, though, I want to put it into the past. I’m not sick anymore. I can hunt again. I just need to find her. I don’t know how it will actually go when we try to talk. I have to try.

But before I do so, I need to remember what happened on that particular day. I’m not sure what to expect, but I need to see what happened. Turning my gaze away from the folder, I begin to climb the stairs upward.

My legs are burning by the time I reach the fourth floor, but as soon as I step into the hallway my mind drifts away from it. There’s a soft sobbing coming from somewhere on the floor. My mind gazes at the white patient room doors, all closed and probably locked. But there is one door that’s painted in red with a glow coming from beneath it.

It’s like the brothel all over again, and I make my way towards it. There’s a mirror towards the side of the hall, and as I go by it, the sobbing reaches its loudest point and begins to die down again as I move further and further from it.

The mirror is crying. I don’t know why, but it is. I don’t want to think about it. Once I’m in front of the door, my eyes fixed upon its redness, I feel my heart quicken. It’s now or never. With one final shake of my blonde locks, I push on the handle and enter.


	8. Lives Lost

It’s a lit room. The light is both comforting and yet unnerving. I’ve gone the whole night without a single other source of light beyond this flashlight, so to run into a clear and bright room now puts me on edge. The room itself is bland, as a hospital room tends to be - white walls, no decorations, a chair for the visitor. And the hospital bed. My eyes quickly shift away from its shape. Staring at it is unpleasant. It’s a reminder of the prison I endured.

As I scan the rest of the room, nothing actually seems out of the ordinary. And most importantly, Blake’s not here. Just as I’m about to give up though, there’s a cough. I whirl around and find myself backing up against the wall.

There’s me, lying on the bed. My skin is an ugly pale, save for the red splotches that dot my skin. It’s all over my body, from my legs to my arms, all the way to my face. The only thing that seems to have remained safe is my blond hair. The doctors called it something - I struck it from my memory quickly. But seeing it now reminds me of what it was that I had to deal with.

The room door unlocks, and in steps Blake. I’m not ready for this conversation. If I can just step outside, then maybe I can calm down and speak to her. I’ve just seen and re-lived so much of what happened in this town, I just can’t think.

But Blake doesn’t even spare me a glance. Instead she goes right by my front to sit next to the Yang in bed. I didn’t realize it before, but this is a conversation that I had.

I remember exactly the way she looked at me.

“I… I finally made the arrangements.” It’s a firm voice. Slow and smooth, but as if it is being reigned in by something. Yang doesn’t comment on it though. Instead, she turns her head away, keeping Blake out of her vision for as long as she can.

“You’ll be buried here. In Silent Hill. You’ll even have an angel as a headstone. You always wanted one after all.”

The words are hardly comforting to me. And I remember the exact words that come out of Yang’s mouth.

“I know that scent. You only wear that scent after we had sex.” There’s a sniffle, but she continues with a slight tremble to her voice, like she’s trying to hold back tears. I deflate. Knowing what is coming hasn’t changed the impact of those words after all this time. But I keep listening. This is where it all ended, after all. This is where things went south.

“You… you cheated on me, haven't you?”

There is no denial in the response. It’s just… a confirmation with no soul behind it. No sadness, no regret, just emptiness.

“It's… it's been hard on us. After all this and what we said, I just… I couldn't… I needed it. Needed you to give it to me. But… with our lot, I...”

A sharp sob breaks through the air and my throat hitches. Yang is crying. “So that's it.” All fight in her voice is gone. “You're just going to let me die and then bury me.”

“Yang…” Her shoulders fall and her body droops forward. “Please don’t say it like that. I… I thought about what you said and… you’re right. I shouldn’t have kept you in here.” She looks up again, her voice losing its firm edge, crumbling beneath the failing sun. “But I could at least do this, to try and... settle accounts.”

My mind goes back to the letter. Blake had said that it was all her fault. But I don’t believe it. Nothing was just her fault. There was the sickness, the money, the strain, it was a series of factors. And I think that she still loves me, after all this.

My chest aches. I want to be together again. An inner part of me screams that it’s an impossibility. I feel like the bridge has burned away. There’s nothing left to try and rebuild off of. No new materials to try and make a new relationship from.

“It’s the worst birthday gift I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Yang-”

“No!” Her body whips around to face Blake. Glistening trails of tears are on her face, but any sign of sobbing has been replaced by anger. Her eyes have gone red. “You’ve been making terrible decisions recently and I’m not letting this go.”

Her words are venomous and I wish Yang would stop talking. It dredges up painful memories from within me, memories that I haven’t thought about in a long time. Once I left the hospital, I haven’t gone back. I haven’t even been in this building for an hour and I already feel so mentally drained and exhausted.

“... And what if it was me in that bed, Yang?” The voice is different now. Where before Blake was restraining herself, here things were starting to lose control. The accusations are too much. “Can you clearly say that you would do better than me?”

“Maybe not.” For a moment there’s a flash of red in Yang’s eyes. “But at least I don’t think I would be fucking around town like you are.”

And that’s the last that I remember of our conversation. Everything from here on out is just static. I remember the emotions I felt. Betrayal. Grief.

Rage.

Yang turns her head away from Blake. “Just let me die in peace.”

“... Is that what you really want?” I watch as Blake gets up from her chair, moving closer to the bed. My heart pounds at what will happen next. I don’t remember it, but I know that it’s important.

“Yeah. Just bury me already. We’d both be better off that way.”

Suddenly, I’m having difficulty breathing. My hands go to my neck, trying to soothe whatever is coming. I feel like my throat is closing in, but in the next moment it doesn’t matter - as I look up at the bed again, my breath is taken away.

Blake is standing over Yang, and her hands are circled around her throat. Her legs are flailing and her arms are trying to claw away. But years of being sick has caused her strength to waste away. There’s no energy to fight back. All that’s written on her face is shock. Her mouth opens and closes, but nothing goes in, nothing comes out.


	9. Answers to questions

My vision is fading. I try to keep fighting, to get a gulp of air, but my entire body burns as it shuts down. My legs buckle and I fall onto my knees. I need to breathe.

Finally, the kicking on the bed stops. My vision is almost black, but suddenly there’s a rush of cold air is going down my throat and I cough. I cough hard. My hands are still at my throat as I watch Blake lean back from the bed. As I try to regain my breath, she stares at what’s done, at Yang’s lifeless body, and then hastily exits the room.

I almost can’t believe it. My eyes fall upon my lifeless body again. This can’t be right. It’s this town. It’s-

I realize that my hands are still by my throat and I tear them away. But something doesn’t seem right. I know that my hands were at my neck to try and soothe the pain, but…

I think back to Blake. I imagine the way her hands were on my neck.

There’s a mirror in the hall. Without another thought, I run out, nearly tripping on my own two feet. I have to see. I have to. When I get to it, my heart is pounding away at my ears. But I take a deep, aching breath again before looking into it.

I look at myself. My blonde hair still has some odd spots that I missed with my hair dye. But I’m looking at my throat the most. It’s hidden away behind my orange scarf, but there’s one small spot that looks damaged. My hands shake, as if afraid to go towards my neck again. But I will them to move. They grasp the end of my scarf and slowly, shakily, they pull it down a little.

And I realize now that it’s not my sickness coming back. I was never sick. Whatever it was ended on that bed two years ago. I just saw it. What I have on my skin doesn’t match that at all. Purple bruises are all over my neck. Deep, dark, ugly bruises. And they look like they’re in the shape of my hands. Cautiously, I move them back up, resuming the position that they were in before, in the position that Blake had on my neck. The truth hits me.

I've been choking myself. I don’t know why, but the proof is there. What’s making me do this? Why would I hurt myself?

Before I can continue with my thoughts though, there’s a sharp sobbing sound.

It’s coming from the mirror. I remember that I purposely avoided this mirror when I walked by it, and now that I’m in front of it my blood freezes. The sobs continue, heartrending and broken. Slowly my gaze turns upward, and it’s not me looking back.

It’s Blake. Her eyes are swollen and puffy, like she’s been crying for too long. Tear streaks, bags under her eyes, drooping ears. All of it.

“You don't deserve to live.” Her hands tighten around her own neck, and I can feel my own hands acting in unison. I try to fight back, but it’s like my hands are a vice grip upon me.

“You killed her. You killed the one woman you love.”

This is all insane. I feel my vision going dark again. I’m reminded of the last time this happened, and I try to move to break the mirror, but nothing happens. My body doesn’t obey me.

“It should have been you that died, not her.”

But according to what I saw I’m dead. Yet I’m also still here. It’s impossible. It just can’t be right.

My body goes slack and I fall backward onto my side. I cough again. I don’t want to move. Everything just burns, and I need to make sure I’m breathing right. But as I breath, my mind churns. Ever since I left the motel, everything has been a mess. And to see all this? To see my own death and yet still be here? It just can’t be.

But something Blake said in the hospital room rings through me. 

_ “You’ll be buried here. In Silent Hill. You’ll even have an angel as a headstone. You always wanted one after all.” _

After hearing that, all I can think about is the graveyard again. That grave with the angel on it. I didn’t see another one like it back there. On paper, it could be mine. But how can that be possible? I’m right here. My mind races as it tries to think, tries to come up with what the hell happened in that two year gap, but it’s all blanks.

There’s nothing in that gap. Just nothing about me. It’s like I just woke up in that motel yesterday. Slowly rising to my feet, I feel my hands instinctively go down my body. I'm alive. I know that much. I feel pain, I feel sorrow, I feel anger. I eat, I sleep, I breathe. And for reasons I can’t explain I bleed.

Dead people stay dead.

The sobbing is gone now, and when I look up at the mirror, it’s just me, Yang, staring back. But what if Yang really is dead? If she died on that bed back there...

Then who am I?

There’s only one place left to go, only one place left that can give my answers. I’m afraid to know what’s there, but my feet begin to move towards the stairs.

I hear rain coming down outside. I don’t think my hair dye is going to make it through that in one piece. It’s cheap after all.


	10. Kempt grave

It’s not a heavy rain, but it’s enough to feel wet all around me. My flashlight makes a pitiful cone against the downpour, but I push through. There aren’t any holes in the streets as I go. It’s like the town knows that I’m going to the cemetery already and doesn’t have to point me in the right direction.

All I know is that if I’m dead... that grave…

I just have to see it. It’s the only way to find out.

I started running when I first left the hospital, but all I can do is walk now. I should have remembered that the graveyard is far away, but at this point it really doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters, actually. I don’t think any of the cars would work anyway. Even then, I don’t have the keys.

But soon enough, I arrive. Everything is soaking wet, and the tombstones all look the same. Brushing the hair from my eyes, I cast my gaze to the sides, trying to find that one gravestone. I start to run again, and soon I see it. I immediately move towards it, swerving past other headstones. When I arrive, my feet finally give out and I slide into the grass and mud.

I’m tired. So tired. Tired of the questions, the anger, the pain. The answer is here. I take greedy breaths of air, slowly dragging myself to front. With a slow lift of my head, I struggle to turn the flashlight onto the epitaph.

_August 22nd 1999 - August 22nd, 2038_

_Here lies Yang Xiao Long, my love and my life._

… So it’s true then. Yang Xiao Long is dead. She died on the hospital bed by the hands of her lover on her birthday.

There’s another part just below it, another line of text. It’s scratched out, but I know what’s written there. I shouldn’t know, but I do. It seems right, though, being here at this grave.

_And in time may I, Blake Belladonna-Xiao Long, rest beside her._

My heart begins to ache and my shoulders tremble. Of all the things that I expected to consume my very being, loss and remorse is not one of them. I begin to cry again. My hands go to my eyes, and I sob uncontrollably.

Yes. This is right. Being at this grave is right. Because I remember now. I remember everything. And now I know why I never seemed to recall what Yang had done in the past two years, why I had seen and known everything that Blake did.

The crying gets worse, and I let everything out.

The hair dye is cheap. It’s running off my strands of hair, leaving spots of pitch black beneath it.

My prosthetic is nothing but a tattoo. A memento of her.

And finally, with the heavy rain matting down my hair, my ears are exposed.

I'm not Yang.

I was never Yang.

I'm just Blake. And I am lost without my radiant sun.

I was so racked with grief when I realized what I had truly done. I was free - I didn’t have to worry about Yang anymore in that hospital. I could live and breathe again. There was relief - the bills, the tense environments, and knowing that she would die but not yet and was still a person in need of caring. There was no more exhaustion in my life that arose from each time I went to see her. No more burden to shoulder.

But knowing how it happened and being left in the wake of it was the worst. Everything around me was hers just as much as it was mine. Our bed. Our money. Our apartment. I couldn’t live with myself and…

There would be an investigation. I should have turned myself in, but I was scared. It would have been the easiest thing, after all. I would have lost many things. But I would have at least been able to explain myself. And maybe I could have gotten help with my grief.

But instead I ran. And for all this time, it was just me, my grief, and my guilt. I can’t recall much from these past two years. Everything had just gone by in a blur, like time was leaving me behind. I didn’t want to interact with anyone. I did what was minimal, then left. I was just a vagrant.

Then it got worse. I started waking up in strange places, and I would have these dark bruises on my neck. I didn’t know how they got there at first, but I realized it was just me getting lost in my own darkness. I just wanted to see Yang again, so much to the point that I started to dress a little like her and dyed my hair.

And then came the dark thoughts. I didn’t deserve to live. I didn’t want to live. But choking myself isn’t possible with just my hands. The body gives out and I’m forced to breathe. Life went on and so did I, just a broken person.

And then I came to this town. When I was in that motel, a part of me must have come back. In an effort to try and deal with my grief I wrote that letter. But it was too late. I had wanted to see her so much that anything would have worked.

And I… must have tricked myself.

This town, it was guiding me to here. It was trying to show me what I needed to see. But when I first came to this graveyard I wasn’t ready. I’ve hated myself. All my self-loathing - the anger, the sadness, it’s what brought me here. And in my delusions, somehow I believed I could still make it right.

I’ve done terrible things, Yang. Not just to you but to myself, and you had to sit and watch me go through it. I’m so sorry.

My guilt eats away at me and I’m broken. My hands go for my neck again, but I know it’s not enough. Alone they will never be enough. My eyes glance up to the headstone, looking at the angel. Her hands are clasped in prayer, and the stone is thick.

And I still have Yang’s scarf. It’s loose around my neck, but it’s quite long.

It’ll do. Maybe… Maybe this time, I… I’ll finally…

One final sob escapes my throat.

…

I’m coming to see you, Yang. After what I’ve done, though, I...

I might be going somewhere different.

But… even just one more glimpse of you would be enough, Yang.

Forgive me.

...

...

...

I love you.


	11. Ever after

_It's a struggle to write this, both physically and otherwise. The sickness in my body just makes me so tired. I try to sleep a lot so that when you visit me I can smile. But it didn't help that day._

_I'm not proud of what I said, but what's done is done. I'm just hoping that Ruby was able to deliver this letter to you in time. But I know you. If you don't want to be found, you won't be._

_I won't make the lofty wish that this finds you in good spirits. I know we left on bitter terms. And I'm sorry. I can't say it enough._

_But you know how I am with words. They were always your specialty, not mine. I'm just some dumb blonde that got lucky enough to find you. I stand by those words, even after all this._

_Not long after you left, I cried. I couldn't believe what I had done. I said horrible things, letting my emotions get to my head again._

_You were always good at calming me down, but this time it was directed at you. I blamed you for so many things, and yet you withstood it all until the very end._

_When I heard you sniffle, I knew I had gone too far. But before I could say anything else, you already stood up and turned away. Watching you leave the room in tears the worst thing I've ever seen, and I wish I could take it back._

_I cried for a long time. I called myself stupid, and if I was still a hunter I would have tore through every wall in my way to get to you, just to hold you again and beg for forgiveness. I tried calling you so many times, but I never got through._

_So all I have is this letter. I know it won't be enough to fix what I've done, but that's okay. It's not meant to._

_The truth is, Blake, is that I'm going to die and I want you to let me go._

_I haven't quite come to terms with it yet. I think that's why I yelled at you. And I'm scared that if I see you again all I'll do is yell._

_But I want you to go on without me. Start leaving me behind._

_I'm scared of what a life without you will be like, on top of everything I'm already going through. But my time with you was all I could have ever wanted._

_I love you. What I said won't change this fact. You made me happier than I could have ever imagined, and your smile is the last thing that will be on my mind when I finally go._

_I don't want to leave knowing I made you cry, though, so I have one last request._

_Be happy, Blake. Be happy and smile, even if it isn't for me anymore._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! If you've made it this far, thank you for reading this fic of mine. Normally I would put in author notes at the end of each chapter, but in this case I decided to save it for now so as to not give away too much. I've boiled it down to my critical writing decisions for now, but if you have more questions I'm game. Send me a PM/review on here or an ask on my tumblr and I'll get to you as soon as I can.
> 
> First, I love Silent Hill 2. I have a PS2 copy, but the one time I popped it in I got maybe 50 minutes in and stopped. I handle horror very poorly. Despite knowing where to go and what to expect, I couldn't make it past the apartments. But I love everything about that game. It's subtle, and this story sought to reflect that subtlety - maybe not in the same way, but at least parallel how it approaches things. The letters for both Blake and Yang parallel Mary's letter in tone and purpose, for example. Fans of SH2 can probably spot a few others, too.
> 
> Next, I'll go ahead with the first part that I've been kinda holding off on but is probably easiest to spot and also self-explanatory: chapter anagram.
> 
> The first big deviation, though, was the choice of no monsters or anyone to speak with. Ultimately, Blake and Yang are hunters and can move quickly and fight well. Monsters as a source of fear wouldn't really make sense. It's something that they do very easily. So instead, we put them in a situation where their strength does not benefit them. Originally I had a few ideas for monsters, but ultimately it got scrapped. 'Yang' doesn't encounter any monsters nobody and therefore cannot put her strengths to use. Finally, the loneliness is crippling to 'Yang'. Without anyone else to interact with, all she is left with is her own weakness and the demons she carries with her.
> 
> Also, interacting with a third person would add unneeded complexity in this case and possibly lead to a fight. I was going to include Sun in some way, but he was cut for this and another reason, which I'll go into later.
> 
> Next is dialogue. This was very important as they provide information that does not stem from 'Yang'. Things needed to be inferred through the word choice. For example, Blake is implied to be a bit more submissive than Yang, especially on their first night together. She's never been with anyone before and she's scared and nervous and she needed Yang to pull her through it. We also see this implied by the letters in the brothel. Also, 'Yang's' dialogue and word choices are meant to throw off the reader a bit - you're supposed to feel that something isn't right. More importantly, though, many of the lines said by 'Yang' can be read as Blake saying them. For example, 'Yang' screaming Blake's name can be inferred as the opposite. It's ambiguous enough that it allows it, and that helps further grow that stilted feeling and really grows the duality between the two.
> 
> Blake's suicide. It almost didn't make it, but it was a part of the original idea so I kept it. Also it gives Blake a chance to redeem herself. She acknowledges her wrongs and makes a conscious decision on what to do about it. It's clearly an unfortunate choice, but she also admits her love for Yang and I feel it solidified her character - it's a valid choice in this case.
> 
> Finally, why bumblebee. I'll be honest in that it's kinda low on my ship list. If it's in there, I don't mind, but I'm just drawn to the other ships for the two characters. But I've never written a lesbian ship before. Of course, this was also not a happy fic. But there are already a lot of happy fics for these two. And that's okay - fanfiction is an outlet of our creativity, but also an escape for the things we want to see in life. For some, this is the only safe area they have, and I'm okay with that. I like happy stories too. But we miss out on so much if we never leave that circle. Though it's a sad story, I tried to make it so that it is impossible to deny that these two still deeply love each other despite everything that happened.
> 
> And as I mentioned, Sun was originally going to make an appearance with Blake going to him in the wake of their argument. Frankly, though, it wouldn't have been as strong as her going to a brothel and losing herself in physical pleasures. And ultimately, the ship didn't matter in here. It could have been any ship in here. But the story isn't about the ship - it's about the pain with a side of terror and grief.
> 
> Wellp, that's all for my notes. Once again, thank you very much for reading this story, and I'll see you all soon.


End file.
